


Wishlist

by CantStopImagining



Series: Text Posts [2]
Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Fluff, Online Dating, Pining, Smut, Tropes, the gorin stuff is very minimal but there's no option to put like a side-ship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-08-18 08:34:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8155817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CantStopImagining/pseuds/CantStopImagining
Summary: If Rebecca was the sun, then Erin’s like stars: impossibly beautiful and intricate. Holtzmann’s content staring at her. She doesn’t fear getting hurt by Erin. She’s in awe of her but at the same time… she’s Erin.Holtzmann doesn't believe in love until she does.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this started out being a short fic about Holtzmann finding love through her friends and eventually Erin. Uh... that is still the basic premise of this story, but it took a bit of a wild turn and turned into almost 9,000 words. I messed with canon a tiny bit because the order of things at the end of the film wasn’t working how I wanted it to in this. Also, basically assume the extended version of the film doesn’t fit into any of this because I was over 5,000 words in when it was released and now that one Holtzbert scene (!!!!!!!) has ruined all my head canons.
> 
> What you will hopefully find here: small amounts of angst, fluff, silly tidbits of conversation, friendship, pining, lots of tropes and cliches, character building stuff, mutual misunderstandings, Holtzmann finding love and a family...
> 
> ...and the first time I've ever written smut. Please be kind.
> 
> (Also I don't actually ship Holtzmann and Gorin especially after what we got with the extended version, but I'd already put that in and I couldn't figure out a way to take it back out).

Love is a confusing concept. It’s also one that Holtzmann, admittedly, hasn’t spent very much time thinking about, despite society’s insistence that she ought to. How can love be important when a human’s lifespan isn’t even long enough to learn about all the wonders of the universe within it? Holtzmann has always been far more fascinated with other concepts: science, mechanics, the way things work, obviously, but other things too. She’d dabbled with philosophy as a child, being presented with a heavy encyclopaedia of philosophy after her mom got sick of her always asking ‘why’. She’d read it from the front battered cover to the torn off back cover (it had come from a thrift store) in only a handful of days, but it didn’t quite quench her thirst for knowledge. If anything, it gave her more questions. A lot of the theoretical stuff didn’t make sense, not in the same way as mechanisms and circuit boards. She could pull off the back of their microwave oven and understand what made it work, but Socrates and Plato’s works were more built on guesswork. Theories overlapping over theories, ignoring facts they could see in front of their own faces.

Occam’s Razor, the theory that the most straight forward explanation, built on no assumptions, is the correct one, is the only one that’s ever resonated with her.

Holtzmann recognises early on - when her mother dies and she’s sent to live with her grandmother, and later rattles around the foster system - that she yearns for love just like anybody else, that maybe she’s lacking in it more than other people, but it doesn’t matter. It’s not a necessity like food or water or heat (three things that as a teenager she frequently finds herself going without), and she becomes an expert at burying her emotions until she reaches a point where it isn’t a pretence anymore.

Then she meets Dr. Rebecca Gorin and that plan stutters and fizzles out.

She doesn’t say that she’s in love with Rebecca because that would imply that she understands what love is. She doesn’t. She does acknowledge that - whilst the other students chat amongst themselves and go out on the weekends and constantly appear to be laughing at a joke Holtzmann is never in the range to hear - she gravitates towards their professor, enjoying the older woman’s company far more than she does people her own age, but she thinks this must be because she’s absorbed in the work. Rebecca's mind is as brilliant as she is beautiful, and being around her is like absorbing sunlight. Despite her cold personality and strict reputation, Holtzmann thinks Rebecca radiates warmth, making her skin glow as soon as she’s anywhere near the professor. 

Then her skin begins to glow in a different way. It’s sticky with sweat and she’s panting and squeezing her eyes tight against the bright, intense light that’s building there, and Rebecca’s hands are as firm as they are when handling machinery, her touch just as precise, just as practiced. Holtzmann feels herself coming undone, trembling under Rebecca’s body, afraid to cling too tightly to her in case she leaves a mark.

She isn’t sure how they got here. There’s something about the tone in which Rebecca breathes her name - the only person still entitled to call her by the name her mother gave her - that makes it impossible to concentrate in class, the memory of her gasping those three syllables out, pressed tightly against Holtzmann’s chest, always right there at the back of her mind. For the first time in her life, Holtzmann finds herself distracted from science, and she hates it, but she also craves it. She can’t stop herself from plummeting towards it full speed ahead. She ends up at Rebecca’s home three, four times a week, hiding in closets (the irony is not lost on her), and rushing out through the back door when her husband gets home, and she knows she needs to stop, but she _can’t_. It’s all consuming but it also isn’t enough.

At some point, the thrill of it all simmers out and she’s left feeling like a shell of a person. They fight. Holtzmann is too clingy, wants too much. Feels too much. Rebecca is married, and her professor, and she’s never going to be any of the things Holtzmann needs her to be. She craves more than Rebecca is ever going to be able to give her.

So, Holtzmann graduates and moves as far away as she can. She buries the idea of love under layers of science, and cocky one liners, and unashamed flirting. She’s a brilliant engineer, she knows that, and when she gets her first job - in a lab in New York - she’s grateful to have something to dive head first into.

By the time she meets Abby Yates, she’s a fully-formed eccentric. She’s always been odd, but hours of spending time alone with machinery, and more than her fair share of accidents, have led her to new levels of _different_. But Abby, with her fascination in all things paranormal, and her ‘I don’t give a shit if you like me or not’ attitude is different too, so they get along just fine. Better than fine: for the first time in years - perhaps ever - Holtzmann finds herself getting close to somebody. They just click into place like they are always supposed to have worked together, two pieces of the same incredibly strange jigsaw puzzle.

She loves Abby in a way that she’s never loved anyone else before. It isn’t the same as she remembers loving her mom, or her grams, and it definitely isn’t the same as Rebecca, but she soon realises that it’s still love. Abby laughs at her stupid jokes and rolls her eyes at her dance moves and they have an ongoing pun-contest that she’s honestly not sure either of them are ever going to win. Abby orders her Chinese food when she’s forgotten to eat, and orders her to go home when it’s late and she’s still at the office, and gently nudges her awake when she falls asleep at her desk. Abby’s her constant, the only thing permanent in her life other than her machines. Abby becomes her home.

Then Erin arrives. Holtzmann doesn’t know what to make of Erin. She’s heard in-depth about how she betrayed Abby. She’s read the book they wrote together, cover to cover, her copy battered and littered with pencil annotations, and turned down corners. It’s still more or less her bible, her instruction booklet, when it comes to the machines she builds. It almost feels like Erin’s been there all along, the amount she comes up in conversation, the amount of her theories that propel the tools they’ve been using. The amount Holtzmann has read about her. It’s good to finally meet the silent partner, the permanent elephant in the room. Somehow, the woman in the book, and the woman Abby rants about, do not quite equate to the woman who is standing in their doorway, arguing with Abby about soup.

She’s immediately fascinated by her. There’s something about her that is familiar, though she’s palpably uncomfortable from the moment they meet, and if anything, that makes Holtzmann more interested. She stays loyal to Abby, and though her teasing is more playful than spiteful, she gets a kick out of winding Erin up, watching her squirm. She’s _genuinely_ interested though, and that comes as something of a surprise, but not as much as what follows it: despite trying not to, for Abby’s sake, Holtzmann can’t help but like her. She’s brilliant in a way that very few people Holtzmann has ever met are, but she knew that from reading the book, falling in love with her equations before she knew the person who wrote them. But, unlike Rebecca (who she honestly doesn’t mean to compare her to, but finds herself doing so almost immediately), she’s a flustered mess of a person, despite what her fitted and prim outfit and ridiculous high heels might lead you to believe. The satisfaction Holtzmann gets out of making Erin’s cheeks flush pink, her mouth twisting into an awkward laugh, is surprisingly electrifying. She’s always been a flirt, but somehow with Erin it’s different.

When Erin ends up joining their team, fired from her stuffy, uptight job at Columbia, it feels inevitable. The dynamic between the three of them is more natural than expected, and she slots into place easily, the Erin who was desperate to make tenure falling away bit by bit to reveal a woman who Holtzmann finds herself liking more and more.

Kevin, from the moment he walks in is wonderfully oblivious - both to his job, and to Erin’s incredibly unsubtle flirting - and Holtzmann decides she likes him from the get go. They may never be able to hold an intelligent conversation, but he makes an excellent test subject, and he genuinely makes Holtzmann laugh, a whole-body belly laugh (one that earns her a distinct gaze from Erin, who doesn’t think she’s looking). By the time they meet Patty, everything feels like it’s fitting into place, and Holtzmann is a little overwhelmed by it all: she’s never been surrounded by people who _get her_ before, but she finds that she likes it, takes to it immediately. There’s an instant rapport between her and Patty, bickering and teasing one another, which feels comfortable and organic, though it takes her a while to one-hundred-percent trust her (unlike Erin, which is an anomaly she doesn’t have the time to think about). 

However, it’s hard not to trust somebody fully when they’ve single-handedly (literally) saved you from dropping to your death.

Patty is a force to be reckoned with. She’s fiercely loyal, always has her teammates’ backs. Holtzmann, to prove a point, launches herself at Patty one day, telling Erin ‘it’s cool, she’ll catch me’, and she does (though she is unhappy about it, especially when it results in her dropping her coffee mug). Patty’s smarts come in the form of a wealth of historical knowledge, and whilst that’s not directly helpful to Holtzmann’s mechanics, it is what saves their asses time and time again in the field. That love which Holtzmann had reserved only for Abby has blossomed into something else, and she loves them all, her dysfunctional family. Even Kevin.

She realises she’s falling in love with Erin long before she feels up to admitting it. It happens gradually, and then all at once, and it’s all consuming, especially once the worst of the ghosts are over, and she’s no longer fuelled entirely by adrenaline. It's been there since the beginning, their playful inside jokes, a constant cycle of flirting and squirming, Erin leaning her whole body against hers whilst they’re watching TV, the smile that lights up her whole face mid-bust when her eyes meet Holtzmann’s. The list of little things is endless, and before Holtzmann realises what’s happening, she’s so wrapped up in Erin that she can barely think of anything else. Even her work somehow manages to revolve around Erin: “I’ll run this by Erin” and “I wonder if Erin would like to test this out” and “as soon as I’m done with this, I’m going to go see what Erin is doing” and she knows it must be obvious to literally everybody around her, but she can’t stop it. She can’t tear herself away. It’s Rebecca Gorin all over again, only Erin is all soft edges and warm blue eyes and gentle laughter that sounds like music. If Rebecca was the sun, then Erin’s like stars: impossibly beautiful and intricate. Holtzmann’s content staring at her. She doesn’t fear getting hurt by Erin. She’s in awe of her but at the same time… she’s Erin. Erin who has shown up to work wearing a sweater inside out before. Erin who makes bad puns, and dances with her hands, and is an awkward flirter. Erin who gets covered in ectoplasm at least once a week, and still ‘woop!’s when her proton gun meets its target.

It’s ironic when they end up up on the roof, staring out at the stars. Or, Erin’s staring at the stars, and Holtzmann’s staring at her. It’s some time past midnight and they’ve both stayed too late working, and the suggestion to stargaze had been partly a joke on Holtzmann’s part, but now here they are. Erin’s shivering under a sweater (right way out, at least), and Holtzmann wishes she’d had the foresight to bring up a blanket for her. 

“That’s cassiopeia,” Erin says, pointing out into the sky.

Holtzmann chuckles beside her, “are you sure about that?”

“Sure it is, I took an astronomy class in college,” Erin meets her with an incredulous look, before turning back to the sky, “that one over there’s… pegasus.”

“…no, that’s the Bank of America and… uh, maybe a public library?”

Erin lets out an exasperated huff that sends her bangs flying, “don’t make fun of me.”

“I don’t have to - you’re terrible at this,” Holtzmann tells her, but she’s smiling when she reaches across and nudges Erin in the ribs, pleased at the giggle that leaves Erin’s lips.

She sighs, settling into Holtzmann’s side. Their breath is visible against the cold night air, and when her head slumps onto Holtzmann’s shoulder, blonde curls tickle against Erin’s face.

“You come up here a lot, don’t you?” Erin murmurs, her voice thick with sleep.

Swallowing, Holtzmann nods, “yeah. It’s quiet up here. I like having somewhere to think…” she glances at Erin, or as much of her as she can make out from the angle she’s at, “and occasionally blow things up.”

Erin laughs, and Holtzmann feels the warmth of it against her neck, “you realise most of the noise in the lab is you and your music?”

“Mmmhmm, and you humming at your desk, and talking to yourself, and cursing at inanimate objects…” she says, because it’s easier to tease Erin than admit that sometimes she just needs to be away from her.

“I don’t do any of that,” Erin mumbles, her face colouring.

“Do too.”

She wraps her arm around Erin’s shoulders, enjoys the way she fits perfectly into her, rubs her arm to try and heat her up. They sit there, the silence comfortable, though Holtzmann feels something heavy beginning to settle inside her. She wants to say something, but she’s afraid of ruining what she already has, and a part of her is sure that she’ll never have anything more than this, and this should be enough. So she stays silent.

Eventually, it gets too cold, and Erin pulls away from her, unwrapping herself from Holtzmann’s body like a cat, stretching and yawning.

“Time to get you to bed,” Holtzmann says, her voice coming out throatier than she’d intended. 

Erin raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything. Her cheeks and the tip of her nose are already pink with cold, so Holtzmann can’t tell if she’s flushed or not. She takes her hand, and helps her down from the ledge they’ve been perched on, not quite ready to let go of her right away. Erin squeezes before she breaks contact, and they head inside. The moment’s over.

It’s okay though. It’s just one in a finite series of moments. Holtzmann’s days are strewn with them, though possibly meaningless to anybody but herself. The moments she catches Erin’s eye over the distance between their desks, and they share a smile, warm and unspoken. When the sunlight catches Erin’s face just right and her hair glows, her face all smooth angles, eyes sparkling. Erin putting a mug of coffee onto Holtzmann’s desk, not saying a word, or saving her her favourite donut when she’s too ensconced in work to go down and eat. Erin gazing out of the window of the Ecto-1 and talking aimlessly as they speed down the streets of Manhattan on the way to a bust, and Holtzmann unable to stop glancing at her, a constant distraction from keeping her eyes on the road.

She lives for making Erin laugh, but even more spectacular are the moments where Erin says or does something so unexpectedly funny that Holtzmann feels herself almost splitting in two with her own laughter. Erin becomes more confident in their back and forth, and Holtzmann can’t help but feel this surge within her, this love that she feels so intensely she wonders if it’s going to start spilling out of her.

Holtzmann stops herself. She isn’t built for the kind of love that she wants from Erin. She’s known that for a long time. It’s okay though. She looks around the fire house, watches Patty and Abby bicker over a take out menu, Erin smiling lopsidedly at them, Kevin frowning over something at the computer, and she thinks _I have this, this is enough_. It’s more than she’s ever had before.

That night, Abby falls asleep in front of a VHS recording of The Twilight Zone, and Erin’s snuggled into her side, one arm across her best friend’s chest. She’ll probably be embarrassed when she wakes up. Holtzmann’s spent the night sprawled out on the floor in front of the couch, eyes only going faintly square from being so close to the TV. Patty’s fingers are nimbly working against Holtzmann’s scalp, blonde hair hanging over her shoulders in something Patty calls ‘fish-tail braids’. It’s oddly calming to Holtzmann; someone who hasn’t had her hair played with since she was a little kid, and who has never thought much about doing anything with it besides knotting it up in its signature style. Patty tuts, adjusting Holtzmann’s shoulders firmly.

“Baby, you gotta sit still and let Patty work,” she commands as Holtzmann continues to fidget.

“Pattycakes, this is as still as it gets in Holtzyland.”

She doesn’t need to turn around to know Patty’s glaring at her.

“Why it gotta be you who was blessed with the mermaid hair, I do not know,” she practically hisses, steadying Holtzmann’s head once again, “I know your head is like magnetically angled so you can gaze at Erin, but could you cut it out for five minutes?”

Uncharacteristically, Holtzmann feels her skin flush pink as she becomes rigid, and all the blood rushes to her ears. Patty’s mumbling under her breath, but Holtzmann drowns it out, more afraid that Erin might have somehow woken up at the mention of her name. She doesn’t want to look because she doesn’t want to prove Patty right.

“When you two fools gonna work that shit out anyway?”

Holtzmann’s mouth is dry and she doesn’t speak right away for fear of stuttering. It passes, and she smiles awkwardly though Patty can’t see her, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Patty’s hands leave her hair, and Holtzmann glances over her shoulder to look at her. She’s holding her hands up in surrender, but theres a grin splitting her face in two.

“Forget I said anything.”

Holtzmann doesn’t forget. In fact, Patty’s words play over and over in her head like a cd on repeat, and even when she tries to drown them out with loud music, and medium-to-small poofs, and the satisfying clunk! of metal on metal, they don’t leave her alone.

To top it all off, Erin’s hovering around her, asking questions and trying to make her laugh, with an expression of worry that makes Holtzmann’s heart ache. She watches Erin clench and unclench her hands, an anxious habit she hasn’t seen from her in a while, and Holtzmann feels guilty, forces herself to fall back into their routine of playful banter, pretends that nothing’s wrong.

If Patty sees it, who else sees it? Does Abby know? Even oblivious Kevin might have some idea.

One of her questions is answered almost immediately. She saunters into the kitchen to find Abby and Erin sitting at the table nursing hot drinks, Abby’s laptop open in front of them, and catches the tail-end of their conversation as she’s rifling through the cupboards for a snack.

“I don’t know, Abby, I don’t really think I’m the kind of woman that men on these sites want,” Erin’s voice sounds tired. Holtzmann stares blankly at packets of food, ears pricked up.

“That’s nonsense!” Abby scoffs, “look at you, you’re pretty and smart and funny… any guy would be lucky to have you.”

Holtzmann can’t help but feel a little sick at the thought of Erin entering the dating pool. She swallows thickly, reaches around blindly for something to grab so she can leave.

“I don’t know. My previous attempts have led me to believe otherwise,” Erin says.

“Holtz, you’d date Erin if she wasn’t, y’know, _Erin_ , right?”

Holtzmann freezes, hand halfway into a tube of Pringles. She turns awkwardly, hoping her face isn’t as red as it feels, and forces a broad grin.

“I don’t date,” she supplies, unsurprised when Abby rolls her eyes.

“You’d sleep with her though,” she presses, causing Holtzmann to almost choke on her own saliva.

“Abby!” Erin exclaims, batting at her best friend, her cheeks bright pink.

“I would not kick you out of bed,” Holtzmann finally says, feeling like all the air in the room has been sucked out of it. She hates how her voice sounds, how her heart squeezes at the stupid smile Erin has on her face for a split second, before it returns to a frown.

“That doesn’t count - Holtz would sleep with anyone,” Erin says, returning her attention to Abby, “she’s an outlier. She doesn’t count.”

Holtzmann leaves the room quickly, taking the can of Pringles with her.

Later, Erin settles herself at the very end of Holtzmann’s desk, watches her hands drift over the skeleton of a machine. Holtzmann can see her out of her peripheral vision, but makes no move to look at her, still feeling the side effects of their earlier conversation with Abby. She hums, gutting part of the wiring system, and then slowly putting it back together again. It’s therapeutic, doing something she knows how to do, that’s built into her muscle memory so solidly that she doesn’t have to really think about it.

“I’m sorry,” Erin says, her voice extremely quiet, so much so that Holtzmann isn’t even sure she heard her correctly, until she repeats herself, a little louder.

Putting down her screw driver, Holtzmann looks up.

“That conversation with Abby clearly made you uncomfortable… I don’t know why she’d even ask you that,” Erin frowns, her attention focussed on a scorch mark on the table, avoiding making eye contact.

Holtzmann wants to make a joke, but her brain’s short-circuited and she comes up blank.

“It’s okay,” she says, instead, flexing her fingers. She’s not good with emotions. She pauses, before continuing, “you know Abby’s right though. You deserve to be happy. You deserve someone who can make you happy.”

Erin looks at her, “I am happy. I already have… I have you three… and Kevin,” she stumbles a bit over Kevin’s name, the burnt embers of her crush on him clearly still a little aflame.

“It’s okay to want more than that,” Holtzmann says, awkwardly scratching the back of her neck. God, she’s so bad at being serious. Even for five minutes.

Erin shifts closer to her, hesitant. Her fingers are toying with the hem of her shirt, her forehead creased.

“Do you… want more than that, Holtz?” Erin says, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Holtzmann attempts a light-hearted chuckle, but it comes out sounding more strangled than in her head, “hey, I get what I need,” she tells her, winking, ever playing along to that suave womaniser image people have of her, when it couldn’t be further from the truth.

There’s something in the way Erin looks at her then that makes Holtzmann wonder if she sees through that facade, and it makes her stomach lurch. She smiles softly, and Holtzmann thinks about kissing her. She thinks in an alternate universe, she would, but here and now… she doesn’t. She lets Erin wander away, and returns to her machines, quietly cursing herself for not having the balls to make a move.

She dives head first into her work. It’s always served as the perfect distraction, and even though she keeps feeling her thoughts creeping elsewhere, she manages to drag herself back into project after project instead. They go on busts, working mechanically as a team, smooth like a well-oiled machine, and Holtzmann builds them weapon after weapon after weapon. Anything she can get her hands on, she turns into something, the cogs of her brain whirring at full speed. She makes a containment unit that sends ghosts to Michigan, and she tells herself its a coincidence, doesn’t press on the matter, though it’s staring at her like a big glaring sign, and she sees the way Erin’s mouth turns up, a question on her lips that she doesn’t voice. But Holtzmann ignores it, keeps working.

Then Rebecca shows up. She hasn’t seen her in about four years, though they send the odd email. Their last encounter is still fresh in the back of Holtzmann’s mind, an awkward conversation over dinner, ending with her locking herself in a bathroom stall trying not to cry. She’s surprised by how easily they fall back into pace, Rebecca watching as she excitedly shows her newest projects off, offering praise and criticisms as if they have no past beyond professor and student. Even after everything, Holtzmann longs for her approval. What’s more surprising, though, is the realisation that that’s all she wants.

Rebecca notices it too. There’s a hint of disappointment in the way she says goodbye, her kiss lingering on Holtzmann’s cheek a beat too long.

“I’m glad she’s making you happy, Jillian,” Rebecca says, her mouth close to Holtzmann’s ear, and she might have shivered at the sensation of it, the familiarity of it, before, but now she just swallows thickly, her eyes darting towards Erin. She doesn’t correct her. She doesn’t even watch her leave, her eyes still trained on Erin, head dipped over an open book, pen between her teeth, and she thinks shit.

Holtzmann makes a decision. Now she just has to figure out how to carry that decision out.

Her brain-to-mouth filter has always been dodgy, so she has to work extra hard not to just blurt it out. She knows Erin, and she knows she won’t react well to a direct approach, especially not in front of everybody else. Holtzmann isn’t this used to putting so much _thought and planning_ into something, and it makes her more jumpy than usual, like a live wire, sparking all over the place. She can’t concentrate on anything, and the explosions in her lab are more constant, less deliberate. She knows she’s going to have to get it over and done with soon or she’ll more than likely wind up blowing up the whole firehouse, but it isn’t that simple. Erin needs to be wooed. She likes all that romantic stuff that Holtzmann has no experience in whatsoever. If she wants this to work, she has to do it properly, and god how she wants it to work.

She considers everything she knows about romance. Flowers and candy are the classic go-to, but she’s left plenty of gifts of food on Erin’s desk before, and nothing’s happened, and she knows Erin has allergies so buying flowers is probably not a good idea. She could invite her to dinner, but they eat meals together practically every day anyway, so that probably wouldn’t work either. For the same reason, star-gazing is out.

It continues to drive Holtzmann mad over the next few days as she potters around in the lab, wishing a big bust would come through so she had something to distract her. Her only rest-bite comes in the form of Erin spending time downstairs, working on a manuscript with Abby, but after a few hours alone in her lab space, Holtzmann finds herself searching for reasons to go downstairs and pester her.

She waits until she hears Abby and Patty say they’re heading out to get lunch, and then she swings down the fireman pole, heading first to the kitchen in the pretence she has purpose, and then over to where Erin is working away at her computer. Erin’s so intently in _the zone_ that she doesn’t seem to notice her presence, and when Holtzmann sidles up behind her, resting her chin on her shoulder, she physically jumps, gasping.

“Whatcha working on there, champ?”

Erin, who is admittedly bad at computers, tries to close the window and only succeeds in zooming into the page, spluttering out a curse word as se tries and fails to hide what she’s doing.

“Seriously?” Holtzmann says, swallowing back the lump that grows in her throat, “hey, good for you.”

Erin’s face is bright red. On the screen, the banner across the top shows a stock image of a couple with huge glistening white smiles sharing a laugh together, the perfect picture of Heterosexual Romance, and Erin’s halfway through filling out her dating profile.

“Please don’t laugh,” Erin says, hiding her face in her hands.

Morbid curiosity gets the best of her, and Holtzmann cocks her head, “lemme see?”

Erin doesn’t say anything, just groans into her hands, so Holtzmann takes that as a yes, leaning across her to scroll the page down. She tries to ignore the way her her chest is pressed to Erin’s back as she strains to read the writing on the screen. A box entitled ‘My Dating Wishlist’ catches her attention.

“You’re a big ol’ hopeless romantic, arentcha?” she says, grinning despite the feeling of dread that’s settling into her stomach.

“Eurgh, it’s stupid,” Erin grumbles, lifting her head for a second, “I should delete it.”

“Nooooo!”

Shaking her head, Erin clicks off the site, and Holtzmann peels herself off of her, “I don’t know what I was thinking. It’s all so… cliche.”

Holtzmann smiles softly at her, mussing her hair affectionately, earning a glare from Erin who quickly pats it back into place, using her computer screen as a mirror. The pieces are moving into place in Holtzmann’s mind, her brain running a mile a minute trying to figure out a plan of action. It’s all there, she just needs to decide what to do.

The perfect opportunity arises a week later. They’ve been asked to run a stall at an event in central park, organised by the mayor’s office. It’s only for a couple of hours, and ghost activity has been slow lately, but that doesn’t stop Erin from spending the entire car ride over there panicking that something’s going to go wrong. 

“I’m just afraid something big will happen and they’ll need us and we won’t be there, you know what Kevin’s like with the phones…” she says, her words coming out in a jumble, hands clenching and unclenching in her lap. 

Holtzmann tries to keep her eyes on the road, really, she does.

“You went over it with him for half an hour, and that was just this morning, I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Abby reasons.

“He’s worked for us for six months and he still sometimes gets our names wrong,” Erin says, rubbing her temple, and nobody argues because they know she’s right.

As it turns out, despite Erin’s constant panicking and the fact she checks her cellphone every ten minutes, there’s nothing to worry about. After a while, even she visibly relaxes. It’s hard not to enjoy themselves when dozens of young girls are staring at them in awe whilst they talk about their work, letting some of the older girls even try on their proton packs, though Holtzmann wishes she’d built toy replicas for the younger children to play with. One kid, probably only five or six, is even in her own home-made jumpsuit, a pair of swimming goggles affixed to the top of her head, her hair, though dark and coarse, unmistakably in the style of Holtzmann’s. She completely loses her shit over that, picking the little girl up and sitting her on her shoulders whilst the others take pictures. It’s an exhilarating day, reminding them all of why this job is so important, even if they do see a few parents visibly move their children away from the stall, tutting. By the time it’s over - and they stay a good half hour longer than they were supposed to - everyone’s giddy with excitement and wishing it hadn’t ended.

They drift through the rest of the event, Holtzmann gathering up as much junk food from various stalls as she can, until her shoulder bag is filled with more cotton candy and kettle corn than one person should ever be able to consume. The careers section has opened out into a lot more carnival-type activity, with fairground rides and large stuffed toys to be won, but Holtzmann finds herself wandering along next to Erin, who is still on an obvious high from their morning.

“I just really hadn’t thought about how much of a difference we could make to girls’ lives, you know?” she says, absent-mindedly picking at a stick of bright green cotton candy.

Holtzmann can’t stop herself from smiling. It’s still such a novelty to see Erin so carefree and happy that she feels light-headed watching her.

“I mean, of course we had people to look up to as children, but it still felt so… distant. Just working in a STEM field seemed unreachable, unless you wanted to teach,” Erin continues.

“Nobody ever told us girls could be badass too,” Holtzmann agrees, grinning.

“Yes! Exactly!”

Something out of the corner of Holtzmann’s eye grabs her attention and she steers them off to the left, grabbing Erin by the wrist. Patty and Abby have been long forgotten about, disappearing into the thick stream of people somewhere behind them. Holtzmann gestures wildly towards a photo booth a few feet in front of them.

Erin frowns.

“Come onnnnn!” Holtzmann says, tugging at her hand.

“We’ll never fit all four of us in there,” Erin protests, vaguely looking around for the others.

“Duh, just you and me then. Please?”

Erin’s cheeks are pink as she shakes her head, “you know I hate pictures. I look a mess.”

Holtzmann doesn’t point out that they’ve spent all day having photos taken with children, nor does she bother to argue that Erin most definitely does not look a mess. Instead, she simply shrugs.

“I took your wallet like ten minutes ago, so I guess I’ll just have to blow up your driver’s license picture and put that up on my wall instead.”

As soon as she’s said it, she whips out the plain brown wallet and lifts it above her head, dancing quickly away from Erin.

“What? Holtzmann!” Erin squeals, chasing after her, “give that back!”

“You’ll have to catch me first!”

Running nimbly away, she continues to run in circles, weaving through people who are looking at her like she’s insane. They’re probably right. Erin chases after her, her face red, probably more from embarrassment than exertion. 

“Fine! I have longer legs than you!”

“You’re a half an inch taller than me, tops,” Holtzmann rolls her eyes, but she slows, allowing Erin to catch her up, but holds the wallet above her head. Erin tries to reach for her wallet, but Holtzmann moves it out of the way just a second before she can get it, enjoying the exasperated growl that leaves Erin’s lips.

“Longer arms than you, though,” Erin says, reaching again, only this time, Holtzmann uses her free hand to grab for her ribs, tickling her. The surprise makes her arm jerk back, and she almost hits Holtzmann in the face accidentally, struggling to fight her off. 

Eventually, Holtzmann relents, put she still holds the wallet out of Erin’s reach, “you have to go in the photo booth.”

Erin rolls her eyes, “okay fine, but the pictures aren’t going anywhere.”

“Deal,” Holtzmann says, handing over the wallet, and watching with a grin as Erin double checks her license is still safely tucked inside it, before slipping it back into her purse.

“You’re the worst,” Erin says, but the look on her face as they walk back to the booth is betraying her.

Digging about in her pocket for change, Holtzmann loads her quarters into the machine, and pulls the curtain back, “ladies first,” she drawls, and Erin ducks her head, disappears inside.

The bench isn’t long enough for Holtzmann to leave any space between them, and normally this isn’t a problem, they sit so close together on the couch, but she suddenly gets the feeling that it is for Erin, and that makes her uneasy. She touches the screen, bringing up the options and selecting the most basic one. Her heart is pounding, and the blood is rushing in her head, and she’s known since she spotted the photo booth what she has to do, but that doesn’t make it any less scary.

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” Erin says, as the first flash goes off, and then she glares at Holtzmann, “Oh, great, it’s al—“

Before she can finish her sentence, Holtzmann grabs Erin’s face in both hands, and draws her towards her. She crushes their lips together, vaguely aware of the sound of the camera taking photos of them, before the sensation of kissing Erin takes over all of her senses. Despite her initial objection - surprise? - Erin quickly melts into the kiss, her lips moving against Holtzmann’s, a soft whimper coming from somewhere deep inside of her, which makes Holtzmann’s whole body turn to mush. As quickly as it started, it’s over, and Holtzmann slides quickly out of the photo booth, snatching up the strip of pictures that’s already waiting for them in the tray at the front of the machine and scrutinising it.

Erin looks dazed when she eventually climbs out, and for a second, guilt pangs in Holtzmann’s chest. She’s never been good at moral boundaries, and she’s scared that maybe she’s gone too far this time.

“Hey, you guys did the photo booth without us?” Abby’s voice snaps Holtzmann back into focus, and she quickly stuffs the strip of photos into the pocket of her cover-alls.

“I thought we were all a team, yo,” Patty says, with false annoyance, before she grins.

“Erin?” Abby asks, nudging her friend, “you okay there? You look—-“

“Yeah, I’m great!” Erin chokes out, forcing her mouth into a smile.

“Girl, I think the sun is getting to you. I told y’all to make sure to keep hydrated.”

“I’m fine,” Erin reassures her, and she sounds more like herself this time, so they let the matter drop. 

The drive back to the firehouse is unbearable, Holtzmann watching Erin constantly, only glad that Patty is driving. She knows her whole body is radiating negativity, incapable of disguising her discomfort no matter how much she tries to bury it under half-hearted puns and her usual silly behaviour. The things that come out of her mouth are even more nonsensical than usual, like she can’t stop herself from blurting out the first thing that comes to mind. Abby keeps giving her that look that says she knows something’s wrong. She’s known her too long not to see through the facade. 

When they return to the firehouse, Holtzmann scoots off upstairs. She knows she’s blown it because Erin spent the whole car journey not meeting her eye, and no matter what she felt in that ten seconds where they were kissing, it isn’t worth it if it means she’s lost her friend. She doesn’t know how to fix it, so she runs and hides instead. In the comfort of her own room - a surprisingly bare and neat space with little more than a bed and a desk in it - she scribbles away at one of her many personal projects, and tries to drown out the heavy whirring in her head that won’t leave her alone.

She knew this was going to happen. She isn’t the kind of person who somebody falls in love with. She goes about it all wrong. 

When she looks down at the sheet of paper she’s been working on, she realises that she’s just ruined the blueprint, and scrunches it up, tossing it away. She reaches for her notebook, and pulls out another page, then realises it’s already covered in writing.

_ERIN’S WISHLIST:_

_I want someone who is genuinely interested in hearing about my day. Someone who makes an effort with my friends. Someone who believes in me. I want someone to cuddle up to to watch tv with, who kisses me in the commercial breaks, and takes me bed to when I fall asleep on the couch. Someone who wants to be with me all the time. Someone who can’t resist kissing me when someone’s taking our picture. Someone who is patient, and isn’t ashamed of all the things that make me me, isn’t embarrassed about being around me._

Holtzmann sighs, scrunching that paper up too, but holding it clenched in her fist. She’d copied down the list from memory as soon as she’d got back to her room, and though she’d felt bad about it, like she was invading Erin’s privacy somehow, it had given her a starting point. But then she’d blown it. Of course, whilst Holtzmann fits all of those criteria - kisses withstanding - she isn’t what Erin is looking for.

She sits there for a long while, unable to move on with her work, before a soft knock on her bedroom door forces her back into reality. She drops the ball of paper onto the desk, and clambers over to see who it is.

“Hey,” Erin says. She’s changed into her MIT sweater with the sleeves pulled down over her hands, and her leg is jiggling awkwardly as she tries to stand still.

Holtzmann leans on the door frame, unsure what she should say, but eventually settling on: “hi.”

“May I come in?”

Nodding, Holtzmann pulls the door wider, and Erin, though slightly hesitant, walks in, taking a seat on the edge of her bed. She looks very directly at Holtzmann, who settles back into her desk chair, as if she’s trying very hard not to take in the rest of the room.

“Dr. Gorin - your mentor - thinks we’re… uh…” Erin visibly swallows, “dating.”

Holtzmann feels her face flush, “what? Nooo,” she says, quickly, making a sound of dismissal.

“And then you… kissed me.”

“That was a… prank,” Holtzmann blurts, “I really got you, huh?”

She doesn’t know what the look that drifts over Erin’s features for a split second means, but it makes her heart sink into her stomach.

“Okay,” Erin finally says, and she moves off the bed, “har har, you got me. I thought for a second… nevermind. Just… that wasn’t really very funny, alright? I spent most of my teen years having boys pretend to be interested in me when really it was all just some big joke at my expense, and even Phil… even that wasn’t real. And… just don’t mess with me like that again, please… Jillian. It’s… not funny.”

Erin’s never used her first name before, and Holtzmann never wants to hear her use it again. She looks like she’s trying very hard not to cry, and the fact that Holtzmann did that to her makes the whole situation even worse, the realisation that in trying to play it off as meaningless, she’d only managed to hurt her further. Holtzmann panics, trying to make things right again, and grabs for the scrunched up sheet of paper, pressing it into Erin’s hands.

“What’s…” Erin’s voice trails off as she realises what she’s reading.

“I’m sorry,” Holtzmann tells her, realising she doesn’t remember the last time she said that word and meant it, “I didn’t know how to make you understand because I don’t do words well and I couldn’t build you anything to show you and the flirting wasn’t working.”

“I deleted this,” Erin breathes, still staring at the list.

“Photographic memory,” Holtzmann tells her, tapping her head with her index finger.

“It wasn’t a joke?”

Holtzmann shakes her head. She watches Erin tear the list in half, dropping it into the trash. Her throat’s gone dry and the seconds of silence seem to last forever before Erin’s standing directly in front of her, jaw square with determination.

“Do it again,” she says, her voice only slightly wavering.

Lifting a hand to Erin’s jaw, Holtzmann reaches up and gently covers her mouth with her own. It’s a lot less forceful than before, but the strum of electricity that buzzes through her is much the same, amplified when Erin kisses her back, one hand snaking its way around her waist, the other finding itself in her hair. Feeling newly confident, Holtzmann kisses her deeper, shivering when she hears Erin gasp, feels her mouth open against her lips. She feels the desk hard against her hips, and realises that they’ve somehow moved, but can’t bring herself to untangle from Erin’s grasp, continuing to kiss her until they’re both breathless.

“Yeah, that wasn’t good at all,” Holtzmann says, and she sees the flash of panic in Erin’s eyes before the corners of her mouth turn up into a grin, and Erin’s prodding her in the ribs.

“Don’t do that!”

“C’m’ere,” Holtz tugs her back in, kissing her again and again, hands roaming gently over every surface of her, mapping her out. She still can’t quite believe this is happening, that the months and months of pent up energy between the two of them is finally equating to something explosive and real, every inch of her alive and tingling under Erin’s soft lips and hands. 

They make it to the bed, barely, before Holtzmann dares to pull back, asking for permission before sliding the zipper of Erin’s sweatshirt down. Eyes blown and dark, Erin nods, reaching for her as soon as the article of clothing is free from her body. Holtzmann’s lips land on this newly discovered skin, and kiss their way along her collar bone, fingers tracing patterns over her stomach, down her ribs, until her mouth finds its way to the tops of her breasts, just for the briefest of moments, before Erin is drawing her back up for a kiss.

Erin starts to unbutton her coveralls, Holtzmann kneeling with one leg either side of her, and she pulls away from the kiss just long enough to ask Erin if she’s sure.

“You don’t have to keep asking,” Erin breathes, “I’ve never been surer about anything.”

“What about the existence of ghosts?”

She yelps in surprise when Erin somehow manages to flip them over, making quirk work of the rest of the buttons of her coveralls, and shoving them forcefully down and off Holtzmann’s torso. Something about the surprise of seeing Erin take control makes the knot that’s twisting in Holtzmann’s abdomen even more unbearable, and she can’t stop herself from leaning forward again, pressing her mouth to Erin’s pulse-point, eliciting a moan from Erin’s lips that makes Holtzmann’s hips buck. There’s an awkward scramble as they both reach for each other’s pants at the same time, Holtzmann lifting her lower body off the bed for Erin to drag her cover-alls off before returning to rid her of her jeans. Erin’s fingers ghost over the waistband of Holtzmann’s underwear, and it’s unbearable, everything happening so fast but not fast enough.

“I don’t really know what I’m doing,” Erin admits, quietly, looking suddenly shy, and Holtzmann can only nod, no quick come-back prepared, her mind too jumbled to respond with much more than ‘fuck’, which, admittedly, still gets the right reaction.

Despite her supposed lack of experience, Erin’s fingers move nimbly, quickly mapping out the places Holtzmann needs her, the right angles and rhythm, her touch firm, constant. She kisses Holtzmann’s shoulders, her neck, one hand finding its way to cup a breast through the thin cotton of her sports bra. Holtzmann’s skin feels like it’s on fire, every inch of her wanting to be closer to Erin, her body coming undone a little more with every stroke, every kiss. She feels like she might drift away, the sensation her body is going through too much, all of her senses drowning in nothing but Erin.

“Erin, Erin, Erin” she repeats over and over, her voice soft and breathy, and she feels Erin’s mouth turn up into a smile against her neck, her right hand circling Holtzmann’s fingers, locking them together. Grounded again, Holtzmann falls quiet, save for gasps and moans, Erin’s pace building, her lips at Holtzmann’s throat, at her chest, peppering hot kisses against her sweaty skin.

Erin shifts, hovering over her, nose a half an inch away from Holtzmann’s. Her left hand stills. Her eyes are wild and dark. Their fingers are still entwined, pressed against the mattress.

“Fuck,” Holtzmann breathes, her hips jerking.

Erin kisses her with swollen lips, teeth biting ever so lightly, and then her fingers curl, moving slowly, and Holtzmann can’t hold herself together anymore. She falls apart, Erin’s name a strangled note on her tongue.

“You sure you haven’t done that before?” she mumbles when she’s finally recovered, and Erin is gazing at her, looking like she’s awaiting approval. Holtzmann fights the urge to give her a thumbs up, rolls over to kiss her instead.

Despite wanting desperately to take Erin to the same dizzying heights she’s just reached, Holtzmann takes her time, worshipping Erin’s body, pressing kisses to every inch of her, paying attention to every individual freckle and scar, until Erin is practically begging her. She kisses down her belly, and Erin groans, her name falling from her lips tangled with a curse word. Holtzmann smiles against the skin of her thigh. She’s never heard her curse before, the word beautiful and foreign in her voice. She stops teasing, pulling her underwear aside, and covering her with her mouth, and it isn’t long before Erin comes undone, gasping, a noise coming deep from within her throat, her eyes scrunched up tight. Holtzmann wipes her mouth and climbs up the bed, pressing soft kisses all over Erin’s face, stroking her hair.

“I want to kiss you in commercial breaks,” Holtzmann whispers, snuggling into her side.

“Mmm?”

“I want to carry you to bed when you fall asleep in front of the tv - don’t laugh, I’m stronger than I look.”

Erin’s lips twitch up into a contented smile, though her eyes are still closed.

“I _guess_ I can make an effort with Patty and Abby if I have to.”

That makes Erin laugh, her eyes crinkling at the corners, the noise harmonic. She curls into Holtzmann.

“I want to be with you all the time,” Holtzmann finishes, pressing her lips into Erin’s hair, “I believe in you.”

 _I love you_ , she doesn’t say. Yet.

-

In the morning, Holtzmann sings as she throws eggs into a pan. She’s wearing a University of Michigan t-shirt and very little else, her glasses propped in her rats-nest hair, a grin stretched broadly over her face.

“Good morning, KrabbyPatty!” she says, gleefully, as her friend approaches the table.

“It is too early for this,” Patty groans, “I aint even had my first cup o’ joe and you’re singing The Beach Boys. Put some damn clothes on!”

Erin appears not long after, her hair wet from the shower, wearing a NASA t-shirt over her pyjama shorts. She takes the seat opposite Patty, pouring herself a cup of coffee, and smiling into it as she lifts it to her lips. Patty grumbles something as she spreads peanut butter onto her toast.

When Abby shows up, already fully dressed, she takes one look at the scene and groans, reaching into her back pocket and producing a $20 note. She slides it across the table to Patty and sits down heavily beside Erin.

“God damnit,” she mumbles, before turning to Erin, “I am very happy for you. Though we are going to talk about this later. We need to lay down some ground rules.”

Patty nods, “you two are _not_ getting funky in any of our communal areas.”

Erin’s eyebrows practically fly into her hairline as she chokes on her coffee, trying desperately to find words of denial.

Holtzmann grins, sliding one arm around Abby’s shoulders, and one arm around Patty’s. She presses a kiss to Abby’s forehead, before reaching across to do the same to Patty, who holds her hand up to stop her.

“Nuh-uh, girl, I know where that mouth’s been.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is loosely based off a text post on tumblr, though it ended up nothing like the idea the post gave me: http://thegoatbusters.tumblr.com/post/146219181765/i-want-the-cliche-kisses-in-photo-booths-and-the


End file.
